Summer's Resolution
by JaneGray
Summary: Trish refuses to live as a stand-in. Dante X Trish.


**Dante/****Trish Summer fanfiction**

It all started with a simple line. "I'm going to the beach." Trish really hadn't expected Dante to freak out like that.

"Beach? What beach!?"

She shrugged. "Any beach. I'll just drive 'till I find one I fancy."

It certainly wasn't the first time she suddenly decided to leave for a while to fulfill her whims of the moment. Ever since she started living in the Human World, a couple of months before, she had made it very clear that, while she sincerely enjoyed Dante's company, she didn't consider herself chained to him, let alone to his agency. She came and went as she pleased, so much that Dante had changed the sign from "Devil Never Cry" back to "Devil May Cry", as he never knew whether she'd be around for the next job.

So, why was this time different? Why had he insisted to go with her now?

Because, she finally realized, when she changed into a skimpy but still reasonably concealing bikini, and he breathed a sigh of relief, _he was a dumbass._ Apparently, he thought she planned on sunbathing topless or something. As if she needed to sunbathe at all to get a perfect tan.

Still, his concern was kinda flattering. Maybe he was jealous because he had finally fallen in love with her?

_Or maybe,_ a little inner voice suggested cynically, he just didn't want a body that looked so much like his mother's to be displayed for all to ogle. He expected Trish to be responsible for his mother's image, to treat her own body as if it were nothing but a rental.

That irritated her. A lot. Trish might be loyal to Dante, but she had no obligations whatsoever to the human woman whom she had never even met; she had earned her freedom by opposing and helping defeat the Emperor of Darkness himself, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give it up by living as a dead stranger's stand-in. Trish was Trish, and Eva was Eva, and the sooner Dante got the hell over it, the less likely she'd get annoyed enough to electrocute some sense into him.

She smirked. That last thought had given her an idea. Maybe a different kind of shock therapy would work.

She called his name, and when he turned to her quizzically, she kissed him fully on the lips. He froze, and she took advantage of it to slide her tongue into his mouth, exploring and tasting it gently, expertly. She hadn't actually kissed anybody before, but Mundus had created her as a seductress, and she instinctively knew how to move like a succubus, giving and taking as much pleasure as possible, making the kiss into a work of art.

She didn't know how Dante would react. She didn't know whether he would embrace her and kiss back or pull away horrified. She would have lied if she had said that it didn't matter, that she wasn't hoping for the former. But ultimately, the kiss wasn't an expression of her feelings for Dante, strong as they may be; it was a declaration of independence, a statement of her will to live as herself for herself, never to be anybody's puppet again.

Dante stood completely still for several seconds, neither kissing back nor pulling away, not even breathing. But Trish wouldn't have it; she wanted a reaction out of him, she wanted acknowledgement. So she continued kissing, refusing to give in until he made a move.

Eventually, slowly and gradually, he relaxed and held her gently. He started caressing her hair with his fingers, then her arms, until his spread hands slid to her hips and settled there. And then, after several more seconds that felt like an eternity, he started kissing back.

It was intoxicating. Her pride swelled and her heart exulted, and the kiss itself felt great. It was a complete, perfect triumph.

But would it last?

Trish finally pulled away and scrutinized Dante's expression. Her therapy had definitely worked, hadn't it? If he dared to see his mother in her features again, she was going to sock him.

But he didn't. He was looking at her like he never had before. Unsure of what to say, probably for the first time in his life, he flashed his best Lovable Rogue™ smirk and raised his eyebrows appreciatively. Oh _yes_, he _got_ it.

She smiled, not a smirk but a real smile, and poked him in the chest with her perfectly manicured finger. "And don't you ever forget it!"


End file.
